


a game of catch

by Fictionista654



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Isn't An Idiot, Declarations Of Love, M/M, Magic Revealed, for once in his life, of a sort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 06:18:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18685825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fictionista654/pseuds/Fictionista654
Summary: The real reason Arthur throws things at Merlin.





	a game of catch

Merlin dropped the armor on the floor of Gaius’s workroom with a clang. “Three chalices, two vases, and a helmet visor. In _two days_.”

“Oh?” said Gaius, glancing away from whatever that bubbling purple stuff in the beaker was. “Do tell.”

“Do you know what he threw at me last week? Do you know? He threw a footstool at me! A footstool! I swear, I’m going to kill that man, prince or not.”

“Pity.” Gaius plucked the beaker from its stand with a pair of bronze tongs and frowned. “Hmm. Tell me, Merlin, what color would you say this is?”

“Er, purple,” said Merlin. “Maybe a violet?”

“It’s supposed to be turquoise,” Gaius said, narrowing his eyes at the concoction. “I can’t figure out where I’m going wrong.”

“You’re not listening, Gaius,” said Merlin. “I’m going to kill Arthur. Do you hear me? I’m threatening treason.”

“Mmm.”

“Right now,” said Merlin. “I’m leaving, and I’m going to murder him.”

Gaius stuck a glass stick into the solution and stirred. “You do that, Merlin.” 

“Nobody takes me seriously!” said Merlin, throwing up his hands. “It’s always, You’re so funny, Merlin or Ha ha ha, good one, Merlin.” 

“I don’t believe I’ve said either of those things,” Gaius commented dryly. 

“Maybe I’ll run away instead,” said Merlin. “No violence, no abuse, just a nice, simple life with no royal fireplaces to be scrubbed. It’s not like he’s going to perform surgery in it! As soon as I light the next fire, there’ll be ashes all over again. And this”—he held up a battered dagger scabbard—“has been thrown at me three times! Three times!”

“How frustrating.”

“I know!” 

“Hmm?” Gaius lowered the beaker and stared blankly at Merlin. “I was talking about my solution. I believe it needs more newts’ eyes.” 

Merlin ignored him and flopped into a chair. “He’s stretching me to my breaking point.”

“You’ll figure something out, Merlin. You always do.” 

***

The wine dripped bitter-red from Merlin’s hair and ran in rivulets down his neck. A knot of heat swelled at the back of his head, and he dug his fingers into the doorway. The cup rolled at his feet. “That hurt,” he said, not turning around. 

“Grow up, Merlin, it’s not a battle wound.” Merlin could hear the smirk in Arthur’s voice. There was a rustling of papers, and then the scritching of a quill.

Merlin took a deep breath through his nose. He opened his mouth. He closed his mouth. He briefly clenched his right fist. “Arthur,” he said, turning around, “I really wish you wouldn’t throw things at me.”

“And I really wish I had a competent servant,” said Arthur, not looking up from his documents. “I suppose we both want things we can’t have.”

“I’m serious, Arthur.” Something in Merlin’s voice must have caught Arthur’s attention, because he finally stopped writing. “You have to stop.”

An amused curl of Arthur’s lip. “Do I?” he said, pushing his chair away from the desk and stretching out his legs before him. “Do I really?” Merlin grit his teeth. That arrogant, presumptuous _pig_. “You see, Merlin, I am the prince, and you are my servant. I give the orders, not other way around.”

Merlin didn’t say anything, but he didn’t leave, either. He stared at Arthur and wondered how he could be as noble and fair as Justinian one day, and an utter ass the next. It didn’t make any sense. Arthur’s eyes met Merlin’s. The expression on his face shifted from amused to something more opaque. Even with all his gifts, Merlin couldn’t tell what was going on in Arthur’s head. Maybe he was deciding how long to put Merlin in the stocks for. Merlin was so caught up in Arthur’s cold blue eyes that he missed the movement of Arthur’s hand. He didn’t have any time to override his natural instincts when the inkwell soared across the room.

Arthur raised his eyebrows, and his lips parted. Merlin let go of the inkwell almost immediately, but the damage was done.

“I can explain,” said Merlin, and stopped because, yes, he could explain, but the explanation was _I have magic_ , which didn’t seem the best thing to say to the crown prince of Camelot.

With a magnanimous wave of his hand, Arthur said, “Go ahead.” Merlin’s lips were numb, and he thought he might throw up. There was ink all over his trousers. The world had become very uncertain, very fast.

“I—” Merlin began, and then frowned. Because shouldn’t Arthur be a little more surprised? Did he not understand what he just saw? It was true that Merlin had never met a more oblivious man, but the inkwell freezing in midair had been a fairly obvious display of magic.

“Cat got your tongue?” drawled Arthur. He stood, his red cape falling around him. There had been an audience with a neighboring king that morning, and Arthur was still in his traditional outfit. He even had the crown on. Merlin licked his lips.

“Uh.”

“Come here, Merlin.” When Merlin didn’t move, Arthur rolled his eyes and crossed the room to him. They were standing practically toe to toe. “Merlin,” he murmured into Merlin’s ear, and the sound sent shivers through his stomach. “You think you can keep secrets from me?” 

Merlin pulled away, his lips quivering. Disbelief, horror, fear, relief—he felt them all. His hands shook. “Arthur,” he said, and stopped, because he didn’t know what to say. He had dreaded and longed for this moment for so long, and now it was over. It had happened. Arthur knew. “How long?”

Arthur wrapped his arms around Merlin’s waist and pulled him close. A breath shuddered from Merlin’s mouth. “Since we fought in the square.”

This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be. “But that was—I wasn’t even your manservant yet.” 

“Yes,” said Arthur, his lips centimeters away from Merlin’s. 

“All this time?” whispered Merlin.

“All this time,” Arthur agreed, and now he was so close that when he spoke, his lips brushed Merlin’s. Merlin’s voice got lost in his throat. An errant tear spilled from his left eye, and Arthur brought his right hand up to cradle Merlin’s face, his thumb catching the tear. “Incidentally, it was that day I realized I loved you.”

Merlin could barely swallow. His heart felt like it was shaking. “What?”

“I love you,” Arthur said, “and I know you have magic. Does that sum it up for you?”

“I…sure,” said Merlin, his voice faint. “If you know so much about me, what am I thinking now?”

“Shut up and kiss me?” Arthur suggested, and Merlin smiled despite himself.

“Close. I’ll tell you.” It was his turn to whisper in Arthur’s ear, so quietly that had there been someone else in the room, they wouldn’t have been able to hear. Two sentences, three words each. “_ ____ _____,” Merlin said. “And _ ____ ___.” 

***

“So, you’ll stop throwing things at me now?”

“I was never throwing things _at_ you, Merlin. I was throwing them _to_ you. You’re terrible at playing catch. Ow!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did that goblet hit you?”

“I’m not the one who can stop things with his mind!”

“I guess I’m better at playing catch, after all.”

“Get back in bed, Merlin.”

“What’s wrong? You don’t want me to chuck this apple at you? Are you—oh!”

“That’s better.” 

“You play dirty, Arthur Pendragon.”

“But I win.”

“Yes, yes, you insufferable prat. You win.”


End file.
